


tippiest of toes

by doofusface



Series: swingin' feelin' [2]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Awkwardness, Best Friends, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Prom, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 18:02:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13886181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doofusface/pseuds/doofusface
Summary: “You know, if you actually want to date me, you can just ask,” Michelle jokes, nudging Peter’s shoulder.





	tippiest of toes

**Author's Note:**

> can be read as a stand-alone piece, but if you wanna, there's a first part 
> 
> hashtag I reread this and I HOPE there aren't mistakes, but I also haven't been sleeping so expect edits later on if there typos and such :)

“You guys should go to junior prom together,” Ned says blankly.

Peter chokes on spit, and Michelle multitasks patting his back and glaring at Ned.

“I’m serious,” he adds quietly, huddling closer in the crowded hallway. “What if there’s, y’know, an _emergency_?”

Michelle’s glare is scathing, and she takes back the hand helping Peter to jut a thumb from Ned to him. “I refuse to conform to society’s prevalent rumors that _he_ and _I_ are _dating_.”

“Geez, Ned,” Peter breathes, regaining composure. “This couldn’t wait til after the Chem test?”

Ned Leeds is stubborn. He masters the art from being Michelle’s friend the past year, and now he’s turning the tables. “What if someone asks MJ to prom next period? Or you?”

“Ha, asks MJ to pro— _ow_ ,” Peter hisses. He turns to the lanky figure beside him and apologizes quietly.

Michelle turns back to Ned, arms crossed and armed with an insightful stare. “So, what you’re saying is, we—“ she gestures to herself and Peter, “—go to prom together, and if there’s an emergency, I get to become Liz 2.0?”

Ned’s face pales. He remembers the sad stares Liz received when Peter rushed off and no, he doesn’t want his friend to get that pity.

Especially not Michelle.

She could hurt someone.

“Uhh,” he replies, looking between her and Peter, hoping his super-buddy speaks up.

“Just kidding,” Michelle laughs, breaking the tension. “I don’t care.”

(Ned notices the lack of an edge when she says it, but Peter looks too relieved for him to call her out about it.)

Her face is blank as ever, but her arms have relaxed slightly, and she’s not glaring at Ned anymore. She sneaks a sideways glance at Peter, who looks like he’s mulling it over, but before he can say anything else, the bell rings.

Michelle turns on her heels sharply, heading in the opposite direction. “Later, losers.”

Ned curses.

He was really hoping to hit two birds with one stone on this one.

* * *

Michelle’s worst nightmare is happening, and she makes a mental note to strangle Ned next time she sees him.

She was sitting beside Cindy, planning the Calculus project freshly bestowed on them, when Flash decided to—for lack of a better word—saunter up to them both, completely ignoring the sophomore he was _supposed_ to be working with. He’s got that _I’m going to flirt with you now_ -smirk that’s both annoying and _way_ too obvious that she decides to turn up her glare-o-meter to _Here Lies [insert name here], A Poor, Stupid Soul_ , instead of the usual _Shut Up, Flash_.

Michelle gives him some props for still managing to talk when he reaches her, but she’s fairly sure his new, expensive sweater is seeing some serious damage in the armpit area.

“So, MJ—prom?” he says more than asks, raising a brow, and, somehow, his smirk.

Her jaw tightens, because he’s _not_ her friend. “Don’t call me that, Eugene.”

“That’s not a no,” he smirks wider. Michelle’s not really sure that should be possible, but Flash is very good at being surprising in the worst ways, so.

“I’m already going with Peter,” she says matter-of-factly, even though she could’ve said she was going stag, or going with Peter _and_ Ned, as a friend trio, or _literally anything else, what the heck, Michelle_.

He _immediately_ turns to Cindy, because he’s _that_ kind of low, but she simply gestures at Abe behind her, who was literally—and this isn’t an exaggeration—handing her a note asking her to prom. Abe makes a _ding_ noise, and gives Flash the slowest, most in-your-face thumbs down Michelle has ever seen.

“Don’t you have like, paid friends for suffocating social events like these, anyway?” Michelle quips, trying to keep her voice even, because _everyone_ is staring at her, and _huh_ , this must be what it’s like to not be the school ghost.

She’s going to kill Ned. She’s going to kill him slowly, and then Peter, too.

(She argues with herself that she wouldn’t have this problem if neither of them existed, so this is the best course of action.)

Flash mumbles something as he squints angrily at the three of them, before huffing back to his seat. Michelle’s (blessed) observant ears pick up the words _credit card_ and _cut off_ , and she lets herself chuckle at his misfortune before she notices that everyone’s _still watching_.

Waiting, she realizes.

She squints at the room, catching the weak ones with her stare. She could clear this whole mess up by adding the name _Ned_ to her previous answer. She could also just shut up, and not make this any worse.

But Michelle “MJ” Jones is Midtown Tech’s greatest wildcard, so of course, _of course_ she turns up the nonchalance and adds: “What? We couldn’t keep tiptoeing around it forever.”

* * *

“MJ.”

“Peter.”

“I did _not_ ask you to junior prom.”

“Gotta give it to Leeds, it’s a solid plan,” she shrugs. She’s lying and she knows _he_ knows she’s lying, but it’s too late. Social media is the greatest guilt-tripper in existence when it wants to be, and there are a surprising amount of people who are way too invested in the idea of _them_ that she almost feels terrible for announcing it the way she did in class.

Almost.

Flash deserved it.

“ _MJ_ ,” Peter begs, and she raises a brow at him, the rest of her face neutral. “MJ, people think we’re _dating_.”

Michelle clears her throat. “Ah. Yeah. That was my bad.”

Peter tilts his head, narrowing his eyes at her. “What did you—”

“So, ‘couldn’t keep tiptoeing around it’, huh?” Ned asks, walking over and waggling his eyebrows.

Peter looks like he’s about to die, and Michelle pats his back, consolingly. “Don’t worry, we can break up right after. Or, better yet, someone _does_ ruin prom, _and_ we can break up right after.”

Ned does this weird “secret” look thing, which Michelle has never bothered to tell him is _very obvious, Leeds_ , and Peter shifts slightly beside her, his face obscured. They have a silent conversation for an extended period of time, filled with exaggerated eye rolls and tightened lips.

“You know, if you actually _want_ to date me, you can just ask,” Michelle jokes, nudging Peter’s shoulder. He and Ned freeze and unfreeze simultaneously, and _oh_.

Huh.

Look at that.

She’s blushing out of shame/embarrassment/realization, and the silence stretches on until Peter finally sputters out a measly, “Ha. Ha-ha. G-good one, MJ.”

He nudges her back, and Ned’s soul is suddenly back in his body, laughing along with him. She joins in to save face, because as much as Peter likes to pretend he can throw a one-off line that’s even vaguely mean to her, she knows straight quips like the one she just made tear that barrier lower than the Aitken basin.

And, well, there’s a little _beat_ in there, a little spark, a little bug that one might call a butterfly.

She’s reconsidering strangling Ned.

* * *

If you told Peter a year and a half ago that he and Michelle would be fake-dating for junior prom, he would’ve laughed in your face. Politely. Or really, in his head. Because he’s nice like that.

If you told him the same about five months ago, he might’ve sputtered a mostly incoherent defense, because she’s his friend and a very good one.

If you told him this morning, he would’ve stared at the heavens, hoping, because these things don’t happen, and even if they did, they don’t happen to _him._

So of course, he assumes he’s dreaming.

Michelle was so casual about the whole thing, so _not_ invested, that he tries to channel her nonchalance into their everyday interactions. Because awkwardness is for people who are in love with their best friend, and since he’s sure she’s going to drift away and destroy the golden trio if he does something she’ll notice...well.

Fake date Parker, reporting for duty.

* * *

Something shifts in the coming days, and Michelle’s...second guessing herself?

Peter’s acting so casual all of a sudden, and she’s not sure if she imagined the whole stutter-stammer fiasco a few days ago. Ned’s mum on everything, but even _he_ looks confused when he thinks she’s not looking, so it all feels very _Inception_ for a while.

She decides two weeks to prom that it’s really not a big deal. Sometimes Peter holds her hand when Flash passes by, and sometimes she loops her arm in his, but it’s all for show. Their seating arrangement at lunch moves to Michelle-by-Peter-across-from-Ned, and that’s really the biggest deal to her, ‘cause it’s harder to kick Peter’s shin from a side angle.

They still go, as a group, to pretty much anywhere. Ned still teaches her hacking. Peter still matches her wit. _She_ still can’t wait for prom to come and go, so they can stop this weird...thing. It’s messing with her brain far more than should be allowed, and as captain of Academic Decathlon team, that’s a problem.

He still goes out as Spider-Man when the last bell rings.

She still has so much faith in him surviving and being fine that she doesn’t worry.

Because it’s _Peter_.

Her _best friend_.

 

* * *

Here’s the thing with Ned: he doesn’t ruin their moments. He’s like the designated “son” friend in their trio, but the kind of son who gets really excited when his parents are doing something cute because one day, he, too, hopes to treat a lady with that much gentleness.

And sass. Because Peter’s sass levels have only risen in the past couple of years, and okay—it’s _probably_  Michelle’s fault. She’s taught her boys to make up better excuses and to curve conversations, but the unfortunate (in this case) side effect is they’ve also inherited more fire from her personality.

(Fair trade; Peter’s making her go soft on more things lately, in deed if not in word, and Ned’s got her sharpening her hacking skills in case he has to go out of town again, which happens a lot.)

But anyway: Ned.

Previously: laughing with Abe and Cindy at Peter’s surprisingly slick dance moves set to a Carly Rae Jepsen song.

Currently: watching Michelle and Peter awkwardly trying to decide if they should bite the bullet and slow dance it out.

“Wow, they are green,” Abe says.

Ned quirks a brow; he’s slumped over one of the few high tables, waiting for this pathetic game to end. _You like each other!_ he screams in his head. _Just! Dance!! Already!!!_

Cindy continues for her date. “I thought they said they were dating now?”

“It’s a very slow process,” Ned says, muffled by his sleeves. “A very slow, agonizing process.”

Cindy leans over to his side, raising a brow at him. “For you or for them?”

“For everyone,” Abe exhales. He sees Peter shuffle his hands like he’s not sure where they’re supposed to go, and Michelle lean back slightly for space, before she carefully plants a hand on his shoulder. She waits for him to take her other hand, the one hovering in the air—he does—and they dance. Sort of.

Abe sighs. “I can’t take this.”

“Wanna dance?” Cindy asks him, but Ned’s pretty sure it’s more a distraction for them than an actual want. They’re buddies, and each others’ prom contingency plans.

Ned wonders if Michelle can find him a contingency plan.

Preferably Betty Brant, but he’s not picky as long as she’s okay with _Star Wars_ and computers.

Michelle is stiffer than usual, and Peter’s trying to look cool. They’ve thankfully moved to the edge of the dancefloor, and less people are giving them stares.

Ned raises two fingers and tries to telekinetically make them smooch already, because he’s dyin’ here.

 _One job_ , he thinks. _One freakin’ easy job, you guys_.

The worst part is the night is actually all-clear. Zero alien tech robberies, zero genetically-enhanced villains, zero imminent worldwide destruction.

When they all haul back into May’s car, Michelle pointedly pushes Ned into the middle seat. The two glare at him at intervals, and May asks nothing.

* * *

They “break up” at lunch the next day, which really just means that Michelle’s back to sitting beside Ned, and she allows herself a few extra colorful insults for a few days. Peter just pretends to sulk.

(Ned knows it’s not pretend, but he’s willing to give in to the rose-tinted glasses illusion if it means that they’ll stop being so _awkward_.)

* * *

“Hey loser,” Michelle says from seat beside Peter’s. It's been a week. She misses him.

He turns, a small, meaningless smile on his lips. “Hey, MJ.”

Cobwell’s saying something about something, but he stayed out ‘til two last night and it’s hitting him hard for second period.

Michelle juts her chin at him. “We good?”

He smiles for real. “Yeah. We’re good.”

“Good,” she replies, grinning. “‘Cause I need your math notes. I’ll trade for chem.”

Ned’s behind Peter, eyes straight and focused at the blackboard.

He resists the urge to facedesk.

(He fails.)

**Author's Note:**

> hahahahaha GOTCHA
> 
> (leave a comment if I gotcha)  
> (or not, it's your life)
> 
> im doofwrites on tumblr if ya wanna annoy me


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